Dead Man's Circle
by MexicAmerichick6
Summary: A mysterious combatant, Black Aria, is forced into cryogenic sleep along with his psychopathic father. They wake up in a world where Betas strive to be as great as Alphas and Omegas. They try to fit in this strange world even as several obstacles come across them. Who is the strange girl that follows Black Aria around?
1. Paint It Black

_An idea I came up with—involving omegaverse and cryogenic sleep._

 _A dark errand boy and his even darker father are forced into it. Betas are minority while._

 **5/27/18: This is an updated version. Now its own story apart from 'Father-Son Drabbles'.**

 **Notes: Viktuuri is NOT endgame in this fic. Please NO hate/flames. There needs to be fics where Viktor spends time with his birth family and be paired with someone else other than Yuuri.**

 **7/11/18: Will be under extreme maintenance. *sighs* The pains of being a fanfic author. Oh well.**

 **202X**

 **Black Aria- 21**

 **Nikhil-43**

* * *

Black Aria landed on his hand and knee, breathing in and out, before standing straight up. As he cleared his field of vision, he could tell that his destination was just ahead. Which was good, because, given the lights that were radiating on the walls, he could tell that the facility had called the police as soon as he got out.

He hopped onto a set of boxes, spinning his body around as soon as he touched the roof, feeling his heart pound. A run later, he was spinning around on a pole, landing sharply on his feet again and would've scaled up a latter if a siren hadn't blared behind him.

"Freeze, Black Aria!" Officer de la Iglesia boomed, outside of the car with a gun in hand. Black Aria had turned his head and groaned. A gun? How useless those things were. The real weapons were sharp and slick, one that Black Aria could seriously put under some skin.

Next to Officer de la Iglesia was a younger man, less than a decade younger, with creamy skin and soft brown hair. Even with his hands aiming his gun at Black Aria, he appeared to be more civil than his flustered partner, due to his doe eyes gleaming in the lights.

With an innocent face, Officer Ji ordered, "Hands where we can—!" but Black Aria didn't care. Black Aria produced a gun-like item from his belt, shooting it to the edge of the building.

"Goodbye," he bid in a very solemn voice, flying away from sight. Both officers were taken aback by that sudden action. The older man frowned, motioning to his fellow officer—"Call for backup, Ji, right now."—before sitting back in the car.

The menace ran across the roof, keeping his arms in ninety-degree angles, quicker than a cheetah, his hair flowing in the air. He hardly ever used a grappling hook, but that moment was a very good time. Officers Ji and de la Iglesia were driving down the avenue, the latter at the wheel. The former had his hand at the radio, ending his call for help. He then stuck his head out to the windshield, trying to locate where Black Aria might be.

He had just jumped off a fourth building, legs spread out over the gap.

When Black Aria reached the edge of that roof, he closed his eyes, his arms extended to the sky. With a grunt, he landed on that very edge and performed several cartwheels all in a perfectly straight line, before reaching a pointed skylight on roof's side. He jumped over it, arms over his shins.

Back down, the patrol car stopped; Officer Ji peered out just wondering who this man was. He knew the name and what he's done but—no, he knew he couldn't waste time admiring how formidable this guy was, so he looked at the building's sign and gave the radio word.

The next roof that Black Aria was going to was larger with a metal vent in the middle. It looked large enough to fit one person, so Black Aria jumped in. He spun around and around like a cannonball until he saw that what appeared to be something wooden with many sheets on it. He landed on his right hand and left knee on a long table. His blue eyes stared intently at the horizon, face emotionless.

Suddenly, Black Aria found himself shaking his head around as he heard several cries, several men shouting. They were sitting at the table, looking spooked as they brandished their firearms—ranging from rifles to pistols—at him, as Black Aria brushed his brow. He looked perplexed, blue gems taking in the entire room. Though he was not afraid, never was.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on there, boys," came a voice, male with some twang, pushing their hands up into the air. It sounded like the patriarch of the group, a blonde man wearing a long coat over a red Hawaiian shirt. "There's no need. This is our guy, Black Aria. The one who's helping us out." The leader said, leaning back in his blue chair.

Everything was at ease again with many men in the room nodded in acknowledgment. Some men pointed to each other, talking about what happened. Others leaned back in their chairs, just shaking their heads, all while placing their guns back under.

"Any reason you called Black Aria?" inquired one man. He had tanned skin, blue eyes, and a large pair of glasses on his nose. He was sitting in the eighth chair on the right, as the latter looked at him, blinking quietly. Was it not obvious? Did he not see the black, metal, and leather-strapped suit he was wearing?

"Say, Ari," the blonde leader, Evan, began, holding his beer in his hand after taking a drink. "Did you bring the goods I asked you?" he let out a smile, beckoning the young man to come over to him as he set his beer down.

However, someone stepped by Evan's side, as if stop him from doing something rash. He was looked about eighteen, with brown hair, blue eyes, tan shirt, and a large cowboy hat on his head. "Sir, did you really want to trust this person? Considering that he is—"

"Alpha?" Evan ended for him, turning.

Black Aria was very close to him when he paused, eyes still like ice. He was holding a package in his arm, looking at the pair that was talking. How did that boy know that he was an Alpha?

"No, no, he's cool." Evan told his young ward, shaking his hands around, in a reassuring tone. He looked at Black Aria before him. "You're cool, Ari? You cool with betas?"

The room had gone incredibly quiet. Alain, the one who asked about his name, was staring right at him like much of his colleagues.

"I have calm relations with Betas," Black Aria told the man, holding his hand up as the other was holding onto the package.

The man chuckled, placing his feet on the table, as if he were watching some joke from an old show on TV. "You see everyone?" his voice boomed to everyone in the room, even to the guards that stood by the doors and women fanning themselves on the couches.

"He's cool with us betas. If he's cool with us, then we're cool with him." Evan assured everyone, so that Black Aria could feel that he was among… friends. Though it seemed he could have enforced that last few words much harder, but he could not when their guest was around.

"That is true…" one murmured, scratching his head.

"Yeah, most aren't even involved with betaracism…" Alain stated, with a flap of his hand. Black Aria gave him the package, as others muttered among each other, again.

"All ya'll just CRAM it!" Evan cried to his men, wanting absolute silence. It grew quiet once again, not one person wanting to make an accidental peep as they knew it would mean absolute trouble.

"Alright…" the leader began, fingers tearing off the tape with a huge smile on his face. It was he were some kid on Christmas day, tearing into a gift that was left under the tree. Black Aria stood there emotionlessly, like an ominous figure standing so in a dark forest, hearing cardboard being torn apart. However, deep inside he wanted his client to hurry already. The cops were right behind him. He heard the silent sounds of excitement as his assistant Alroy had his hand on his shoulder.

There was a triumphant laugh. Evan had a crystal with a silver hand sealed inside of it. "Now with this, we'd be very close to hacking into that building that's just towns from us!" he cackled. "Nice work Ari," he smiled at Black Aria. He turned to Alroy, "Yo Al, go get that cash quick, Ari's gotta be paid."

Alroy nodded, though he felt hesitant, but scampered away to where the money machine was.

A few seconds later, Alroy was scampering back, holding a large block of cash tied in white strips in his hands. Evan took them from him and passed them to Black Aria.

"Here you are, Ari," Evan winked as Black Aria crouched down to collect his pay. The money was hefty but felt so heavenly in his hands. Black Aria needed it. Several sirens blared behind the doors, with Black Aria's eyes staring at the door.

"Farewell," Black Aria bid, running back and jumping back into the vent above him.

There was a large slam, "The HELL is Black Aria?!" Officer de la Iglesia thundered, hands on the double doors. Alroy was taken aback, holding onto his hat. Not wanting to be part of the soon-to-be predicament, he ran out.

Just two blocks away from that beta building, Black Aria was walking down the sidewalk. "I need a vacation…" he muttered, pulling his mask down. He had so much over the past few months— delivering drugs and other products for others, keeping guard over certain buildings, poisoning some fools and their hoes—he needed some time for himself. With the money he was given just earlier, it only made more sense.

Black Aria wondered what he could do and where he could go. His apartment was nice, it was on the fifth of a superb complex, a cobblestone lined shower with several settings, a window with an open view of the city, and a bed that was embedded in the floor, but he needed to get out of here, this town. Speaking of a shower, Black Aria had done so much running that he was bound to reek of sweat.

Unfortunately, that would be nothing to when he heard the sirens after him, insinuating that the cops found out where he was and wanted to book him. Black Aria grunted, rolling his eyes, more annoyed than in a hurry.

Black Aria picked up his pace, ponytail flapping around, and putting his mask back on. Officer de la Iglesia's car was in front, his head sticking out for him, shaking his fist at him like an angered elder. Oh, Black Aria had to give him points for that.

"Black Aria!" Officer de la Iglesia cried out.

Black Aria was frothing— couldn't the cops go retire for the night? Even someone like de la Iglesia needed to relax a little. Black Aria locked himself in a defensive stance, one arm before his chest as the officer was slammed his door shut.

"You're under arrest, Black Aria! Hands where I can see them, NOW!" Officer de la Iglesia cried for the last time, marching over to him. If he had a mirror he could see the look on his face. He was even more pissed than a bull, firing bullets away like no one's business. The criminal rolled around, got into a handstand and spread his legs, avoiding the bullets as if they were tennis balls.

 _A fellow alpha—_ Black Aria guessed, after wondering why Officer de la Iglesia was as so.

Black Aria was on his right hand and his knee. He smiled devilishly, shaking his finger at the officer. "You can't hurt me."

Black Aria chortled as the officer felt something cold flow in his veins. He was getting on both Officer de la Iglesia's bad and disturbed side. Never in his entire career had he quarreled with someone as strange and cold as Black Aria. So cold that he didn't know what to say on his behalf, frozen like that hand in that crystal Evan had.

Black Aria back-flipped his way out, into an alley that was just in front of him. Officer de la Iglesia gritted his teeth, gun trembling in his hands. He dropped to his knees, hair falling to his eyes. The gun slid to the side, but he did not care. He slammed his fist into the ground, sending gravel up. Officer Ji ran to his side, hand on his back.

"I should've just tackled him," Officer de la Iglesia groaned through his teeth.

Black Aria swung his body into the white framed window, landing back in his apartment.

"Oh my god," he grunted loudly as if he stepped out of a very long, hard, and tedious exam at his college. He flipped the lights on his kitchen, running one hand through his hair. He removed his mask, no longer being Black Aria, but now Viktor.

"Aw fuck," he really needed that shower. However, after all of that running and being shot at by that hard-headed, flame-eyed, Latino cop, he really needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow he'd find out what places there were to visit and that way he can go and find a new suitcase, his old one was very shoddy. So he fell into bed, taking off his suit and leaving himself in his spandex briefs for the rest of the night.

* * *

Finding a suitcase was a breeze as Viktor walked through the airport doors, hand wrapped around the handle and another wrapped around his phone. Just time ago, he stared at the top ten places to visit as a lone tourist and found the perfect place that wasn't too far away. Acapulco, Mexico. After that, the tickets and hotel were booked.

Viktor sighed, putting his phone away and showing the lady his ticket and walked right in. The plane was smooth, Viktor finding a nice spot to himself, reclining the chair. Even though he wasn't a big fan of TV, he took joy in a movie that was playing. When the plane landed in Acapulco, he took a seat in the lobby, drinking some water and biting into a sandwich he bought at the counter. It was when a man who was on the same plane as Viktor walked over to him. He sat just next to him and leaned his body close to him as if to get Viktor's attention. When that didn't work, he leaned in closer to him. That was when Viktor tensed.

Perturbed, Viktor raised a brow and faced him, "Can I help you?" He sounded almost weirded out by him. He was never comfortable with strangers coming near him. For all he knew, they could've been undercover cops or other assailants.

The man smiled, coughing, "Pardon me, but my name is James Fowler, and my and I were on the same plane as you and have been intrigued by you; I trust that you are an alpha?"

"Why must you ask?" Viktor demanded in a defensive tone.

"Oh, for a good reason, you look so well built and your eyes are as blue as the ocean, you look you could be the perfect suitor for my son, who's an omega," James explained.

Oh was he some suitor scout instead? Viktor had to groan at that, but instead, he simply replied with a, "I don't like Omegas," As much as he disliked guns. Too useless and loud.

James tilted his head up, his fist curling up. Viktor could tell that this man was not pleased. Why should he please anyone, other than the clients that paid him for doing their tasks? Tasks more important than some serving some dumb omega in that thing called 'heat'?

"Oh, you should have some interest in omegas. After all, it's how the world was designed. To bond, unlike those putrid creatures called 'betas'."

"Excuse me?" Viktor was taken aback.

"You heard me," James scoffed at the very word. "Betas, nothing more than prostitutes, terrorists, and the mentally ill. They don't have the same grace as we Alphas and Omegas."

Then Viktor smirked. "Just like you in your formerly piggy gut days." He got up and sardonically smiled at the man, walking away with his suitcase in hand.

Viktor walked down the sidewalk, evading all of the teens, parents, and elders just so he can get away. What the hell was up with people nowadays? How come they couldn't understand that if someone doesn't like something, they don't like it? Why force it? Not everything turns out perfectly as someone planned. How ignorant could someone be? Viktor hoped not so much as a small child, as he walked through the parking lot.

He called a taxi and told the driver the address of the hotel. After checking in, Viktor found himself walking up to his hotel room and falling back onto the bed. He stared at the window and smiled, seeing that it was opened up for his convenience. He couldn't wait to go out tonight. Maybe there was a bike rental somewhere in town and he could use it get to his destinations.

Viktor pulled out his phone and scrolled right through it, but then, something on it caught his attention. It was in Spanish first, but with the translator on his phone, Viktor read about it.

 **BLADE OF SILVER TOURNAMENT**

 _Calling for all of the strongest hand-to-hand combatants to compete for glory. Winner will receive riches and forever known as the deity of blades._

Viktor wondered where this tournament was, so he scrolled down and saw the address. It wasn't too far, it was somewhere in town, in an arena surrounded by several warehouses and the beach. Viktor raised one brow. Maybe he could go there and watch, just for fun. But it reminded him of a client who commented on his fighting skills. He told him that he was a very strong fighter that he should compete in a competition sometime. Black Aria thought was just bullshit. But Black Aria wasn't here, just his other side, Viktor.

With a smile, Viktor figured he could put himself in the spotlight, just for a while. He tapped the registration link and filled his information in.

* * *

Little did he know, he wouldn't be the only alpha entering in the competition.

Nikhil Nikiforov was standing before a monitor, a wicked smirk playing on his face, picking at the keys before him. After the registration was done, he stared off to his left side. There, a small red light was blinking, right on top of where Acapulco was.

Nikhil guffawed in his teeth.

"Daddy's coming, Viktor."


	2. Time of My Life Owe it All to You

**Leo-32**

 **Guang-Hong-24**

 **Decided to put in their actual ages…yeah, I know.**

x0x

Officer de la Iglesia—or rather Leo here—had never been a fan of video games; once he laid hands on Guang-Hong's video game console controller, though, it felt like pure bliss. The alpha officer's days had become much lighter and sweeter since the latter redirected him from trying to catch Black Aria. Lord knew the poor alpha needed it—otherwise, Leo would've driven himself to madness if he went any further.

Leo lifted his hands up, a large smile on his face as he laughed. Guang-Hong was in the kitchen, holding onto a tray of fruit when he asked him, "You beat the boss?"

"Yeah," Leo had a toothy grin on his face, as Guang-Hong sat right by him.

"I could never beat that villainess, knowing how sultry she looked," the omega told him, just shuddering at that thought.

Leo plucked a caramel coated-slice of an apple, waving at him, "Eh, they're just like those hookers on the street who try to distract you from storming into the drug factory. Only a bunch of mannequins."

Guang-Hong was chewing on his fruit slice, sending a very distasteful look at him. "Hey, those hookers still have a set of breathing lungs and organs."

Hookers—Leo repeated that word in his head. He had a brow raised at Guang-Hong; he had been hooked by him since the day the chief assigned him as his partner. No, not because he was an omega, oh no; omegas were known more other than their scents or plump faces and small delicate hands. Much more.

"You know, you've been in my interest list since day one," Leo admitted, gesturing to him with just a finger.

Guang-Hong pursed his lips up, pointing to himself. "Really? You serious?"

"Yeah," said the alpha officer, going back to the menu screen. He set the controller on the coffee table and adjusted his legs on top of the couch his feet just close to Guang-Hong's hips. "When I saw your face right by the chief's, some thoughts rushed into my mind. You looked like you knew what you could do and when you were doing it and that you were quite a curious cat."

And frankly, he wasn't too far from the truth. He was just right. The omega officer giggled under his fingernails, flapping that very hand at him.

"I did pay a lot of attention in my classes…" he fluttered his eyelashes at him. "Um, do you what I think about you...Leo?" They had agreed to call each other by their first names—since they would be spending some time together—as regular people.

Leo had looked right at him with a very curious look on his face. He leaned his face close to his omega partner, "Mm-hm?"

"You seemed like a troubled soul when I first saw you." He chanted to him. "No, not because you were some bad number in school, no, there's a different story to that."

That was the very beauty of Alphas and Omegas. Some were able to read others with pure ease and even though it took time for others to understand others, it was just fine. It helped certain couples get along better together and make better decisions too.

"I take it you were sort of alienated while in school? In elementary and high?" the omega officer inquired.

"Yes. You have that right," Leo rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Both were made up of those damn betas…" Students and teachers alike stared at him with strange eyes. Whenever names were being called in class, the teacher called out Leo's name quietly mostly out of indifference for him. Since he was one of the very few alphas in school, everyone thought he could just blow up with rage because of it. If someone were to provoke an alpha child, they would be torn up like paper within seconds.

Leo felt hollow during those times.

Guang-Hong came and rubbed his thumb on his cheek. He knew how he felt. Since he was so fond of books and new experiences—betas teased him. _Omegas are dumb. Omegas are nothing but crybabies._

It was a nightmare when he went into his heats. The girls—either betas or omegas—were supportive, but when it came to the boys… did Guang-Hong even dare to spin his tale?

Something crystal clear and liquid-like cascaded down his forehead. What the—as Guang-Hong rubbed his brow. His lids were growing thick like rising bread by the second.

"Guang-Hong…!" Leo called out for his companion.

"Oh my…!" the omega officer fretted, gasping. It was time. "Leo…" he held his hand out for him. "I—care to aid an omega…?"

Leo had a straight line on his mouth. He nodded. "Sure," and then stood up and carried Guang-Hong bridal style to his room.

x0x

Viktor turned both ways at the atmosphere before him, as the sun had finally set now. Several men and women alike strode past through, as Viktor picked up his pace and went straight to the arena that was before him. The young man bore a smile on his face, staring up at the ceiling as he twirled around.

Yes—he nodded to himself—this would do very much. This was what that very client wanted out of Black Aria. If anything, Viktor hoped that client would watch this online if the tournament would be aired there. The young man's lips pursed up, running to the large desk where several people stood in line for. All were dressed differently and oddly with strange outfits unlike his mere blue tank-top, jeans, and newly purchased boots. He stood at the back of the line when he figured it was the line where all of the fighters came to check in for the fight.

Just many feet away from him, a tall figure stood within the shadows.

Nikhil's lip went up to the left, eyeing his own, only child with a glimmer of malice in his eyes. He would come and check in right after his son. There was no reason for him to have an early fight with him before the actual one started.

x0x

Viktor didn't care for the very person in charge of the actual tournament or for the damn speech he would give. He just wanted to get out on the ring now despite the five matches he had to wait out until it was his time. No, not his time—his and _his opponent's_ time. Viktor had a quick preview of who his partner was. Haruhito Katsuki. He had beta written all over him, with black, blonde, and green gelled-faux hawk and a torn up white coat. _Double dying your hair?_ Viktor shook his head with his lip up at that. Tacky.

The speech and three matches came and went. There would be ten matches tonight, and whoever won each one would be able to fight tomorrow night, with five one on one matches and the last night, a second to the last one on one fight and a three-way battle; the last two would be determined there too. Viktor was just as excited as a horse as each one ended, taking good looks at both fighters from each side. When clapped his hands together when he saw the young lady wearing a red and white bikini top and black pants win, someone came up to him. He was about in his mid-40s, with large, hairy muscles and a pair of white and red pants.

"Eh, relajate, hijo." The man said to him, putting his hand on his shoulder. Viktor tensed, rapidly brushing the large man's hand away from his body.

"You do not have any right in touching my body," it was just like what happened with that man in the airport. This man could either be an undercover cop or a rival. Though much like the man, Viktor couldn't tell if this guy was either a beta or an alpha. Viktor went for the latter, as the man held onto his hips.

"How else can we keep you from tearing the box seat down?" he told him. He took a good look at Viktor, and his eyes looked almost… morose.

"What are you looking at?" the younger man asked the much larger fighter, flapping his bang up.

"You look awfully young to be out here on your own, are you not with your parents here?" the man asked.

"Am I not held within my parents' boundaries," Viktor answered. "I follow my own path—nothing else," he turned the other way, most likely to the bathroom so he could get some privacy. Yet the strange-combatant man grabbed his right wrist, making Viktor's eyes pop out just comically. He turned back to the man silently, with a 'fuck are you doing?' look on his face.

Just in the shadows of the box room, Nikhil's shadow tensed, his hand going into his jacket.

"Hey, why do you have to be like that?" the man asked him as if he were some concerned parent or older sibling. Nikhil relaxed, slowly taking his hand away from his concealed gun. "Always have to be so strict towards other people, why?" the man tilted his nose up.

The man was right on point. What reason exactly?

Viktor nasally exhaled. "Due to my family history—many of my family members were just cold or reckless."

The man let him go. He nodded, "Though it wouldn't hurt you to talk to at least one person here, name's Pedro, by the way." He held his hand out for him to shake. "Yours?"

Viktor didn't know if he could, he had not given his name to anyone in a long while, other than to classmates or neighbors. "Viktor…" he answered, though he had a cringey look on his face.

"Alright, Viktor, I'll see you fight soon, alright?" Pedro gave a smile.

"Of course…" he nervously chuckled. "Bye…" he said, making his way to the bathroom.

X0x

He waited until it was his and his opponent's time to go out. He didn't have enough clue as to who won each match, but he was sure that he would see the other victors soon enough. He had performed several moves and punches after he went and did his business, careful to not hurt anyone that walked in. When it was finally time for the sixth match, he took several deep breaths, jumping just at least a few times, giving the air just a few last punches.

He was standing face to face to Haruhito, the young man maybe two years older than him swiping two hands on his faux-hawk. As if it'll droop while he's fighting. When the official called out, _'Fight!'_ , Haruhito swung his fist first, only for Viktor to grab his wrist and flow down to the mat, his right leg colliding with his. While sitting on the ground, with a strained look on his face, he grabbed both of Haruhito's arms and planted his boot on his back, grunting. Haruhito was groaning loudly, his ribs coming towards each other like a squished up sponge, as Viktor rolled his body to his stomach, as the latter had a smile on his face.

The spirit of Black Aria was radiating through his body, as he could hear the crowd cheer in wild madness for him. Even the host of the competition, a man with a flat plate of hair on his head and a mustache, smiled at him.

All of the remaining competitors, even Pedro, were looking at Viktor with massive interest. The young lady with the red and white bikini top had her hands on her knees, stating, "Wow, I've never seen a character like him before."

Pedro rubbed his chin. She had a point, nodding to her.

That was when Haruhito forcefully rolled himself away, sending his boot to Viktor's chest.

"Ah!" the young man cried out, his silver hair spilling onto the mat. Haruhito sent his fists to his face, but Viktor averted himself out of the way. He slipped his legs away from under his body, sending five flutter kicks to his shoulders and face. Haruhito cried out at every jab, attempting to block himself with his arms, trying to figure out a way to defeat the strange silver-haired person before him. Just when he could stomp on Viktor's right knee, the latter spun himself around on one foot, his leg going for his face. Haruhito cried out, saliva manifesting from his mouth as if he were vomiting.

Nikhil raised a brow, seeing his child bring his opponent down as if he were a building. It reminded him of when he saw him as Black Aria combatting a small army of armed guards all on his own. Black Aria had only a few projectiles in hand and was able to cause more calamities than Bonnie and Clyde in one day.

The crowd cheered even wilder—a young man in a pair of shades pulled off his shirt as a way supporting Viktor; a man wearing a cowboy hat held his beer up, calling out for the boy; a rotund woman slammed her hands onto the betting counter, placing her bets on the silver-haired lad.

Viktor averted his eyes at them, wiping some of the sweat of his brow, shaking his silver hair around. He let out a mere chuckle through his teeth, waving at the spectators before him. Haruhito on the other hand though, had his hand on the mat, staring at his hand as it just two to three drops of blood on it. He could tell that some people weren't into him-all because he couldn't handle the thin and nimble young man before him. He heard some booing sounds, a man donning a Freddy Mercury-like mustache pointed his thumb downwards at him; another had his hands cupped around his mouth, telling him to get off the mat now; a woman with wavy hair, white crop, and short, black skirt shouting profanities at him.

It was apparent that Haruhito was losing, but he wouldn't go down just yet. Viktor spun around just once, his hair flowing making him seem like a majestic fountain. Once he stood still, he pressed three fingers to his mouth, sending a kiss and a then a wink to the audience. There were several high-pitched cries as a response, a cluster of young women fawning over him. Who would've known, someone who could enlist so much damage onto else could also be so gentleman-like at the same time?

Haruhito cartwheeled his way to Viktor as he was distracted by his now new fans. Viktor's blue gems were still as ice, them becoming dark blue. Haruhito was coming his way and quickly. Haruhito was behind him yes, though not for long. Just as his red converse shoes were right by Viktor, he grabbed his ankles and spun around, once, twice, and thrice, his opponent screaming all the way. Viktor let him go, his leg right in the air, frown ever-present on his face. Haruhito flew like a discus, him almost hitting the barrier between the mat and the audience, groaning at the top of his lungs.

Viktor was panting, his hand on his heart as he saw his now-defeated opponent before him. The crowd that had cheered for his victory was downplayed, as the host came over to Viktor, with a mic in his hand.

With a smile, he told the audience something in Spanish that Viktor rubbed his head while, and then he felt a hand on him.

"Ladies and Gentleman, our sixth victor, Viktor Nikiforov!" he lifted the young man's arm with ease as Viktor had allowed. He won after all; how else to could he advance farther within the tournament?

x0x

Viktor traveled all the way to the bathroom, wanting to wash his face after such battle he had endured. Damn, he had never felt so satisfied in his entire life. He felt a rush when fighting rivals in warehouses, but it was nothing to this. He hoped he could feel like this tomorrow, either advancing in the fight or leaving with his head held up high. He splashed the water into his face, shaking his hair as he let his hair band loose. Once he reached the hotel again, he would shower—not wanting to just jump into the bed and smelling even worse nights ago. He combed his fingers through his hair, but once he looked at his temple to find a pimple there, his blood went cold for just—one—second.

There were the fighters' introductions first in Spanish and then in English… Pedro, the man Viktor met back in the competitor's box seat, against…

"Nikhil Nikiforov!"

The host's voice radiated through the hallways and the like, causing Viktor to throw his hands up and slamming them onto the sink.

Pedro's brows were at his nose-bridge, his face just riddled with massive confusion. Viktor Nikiforov and Nikhil Nikiforov? Were these two men related? Viktor did come alone right? Did he lie? And why did he?

Nikhil smirked. "I wouldn't worry about it if I were you…" It was like he could hear Pedro's thoughts as he was just before him. He delivered the first hit, his bare, aged, knuckles colliding against his face.

Viktor ran out of the arena as quick as his legs could, as he wanted nothing to do with that psychopath. He didn't care about the arena officials that were calling for him to return. They would understand if they knew anything about him and his father. As if they even believed him. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, and fuck. How did Nikhil find him? How did he manage to have some sort of locator on him? And without his knowledge and consent? What did he want? Only God knew what would happen if Nikhil and his son met again.

Viktor brushed through cars and pedestrians, his hair swishing in the dark. All he wanted was just a vacation to himself. A vacation from being that vigilante Black Aria. Once he would make it to the hotel, he figured, he would pack up everything that he had as quick as he could, and while the fights were still happening, he would find the best flight back home quickly too. Viktor found himself in the middle of the street, trying to find his route back to the hotel.

Viktor paused for one second, stopping by a telephone, brushing one hair of the way. As some old Spanish music played behind him, three figures erupted from the pharmacy behind him. It was a man, a woman, and a boy just younger than him. The Fowler Family. As Mr. Fowler and his wife were talking about the latter bought, their son gasped, telling his parents as he pointed right at Viktor.

Remembering what he rudely told him, Mr. Fowler tightened his fist, his eyes narrowing. Never had he ever met anyone as rude as him. Mr. Fowler matched over to Viktor, wanting to give him a lot more than a piece of his mind. His son was going to find someone to take care of him. What if he and his wife went away somehow? What if his son was at University and went into heat while in class? Who was going to make sure he made it back to his dorm as soon as possible?

"Hey you," he called out to Viktor, but the young man's hair loomed up like a scorpion's tail. His eyes grew into a sky-blue color.

"How dare you reject a kind offer!" Mr. Fowler boomed right at him. Viktor's ribs were coming in and out, as his gripped his fist. He remembered about what the man spat about betas. That they were the grimiest ones of the humanity spectrum. Without even giving a major fuck about the man would say next, he grabbed Mr. Fowler's neck as if he were going to drop an expensive vase.

Viktor's eyes were very close to his, a small gap in between their noses. His thumbs pressed right into his Adam's Apple while Mr. Fowler's eyes went up to his lids. His own rage was going down by the second, as little choking sounds erupted from his lips. Mrs. Folwer and their son David were standing right behind, the former cupping her mouth as she tried to keep her son away.

"My mother was a beta… motherfucker." Viktor hissed at him, red fire burning in his cool blue eyes.

"You put my husband down, immediately!" Mrs. Fowler called out to him. Though Viktor wouldn't heed them, throwing Mr. Fowler down.

Mrs. Fowler, with her face appearing just as morbid as a ghost, pulled out a pager and pressed a red button.

A siren blared quicker than a cheetah.

x0x

 _ **Thank you for reading! You like some Omegaverse!LeoJi? Then review and fave away! See you babes soon!**_


	3. Wings of Freedom

In a small room, Haruhito was sitting on a bright red bench, holding onto his phone. "You just had to go and make a fool out of yourself, Haruhito." A man, older than him stated. He had seen Haruhito's damn appearance on TV with his family and had to call him for that.

Haruhito rubbed his nose, inquiring his older half-brother, "He made me bleed, can you believe him though?"

"I wouldn't blame him, whether or not he knew anything about you," Toshiya answered matter-of-factly.

Haruhito wanted to lash out towards him, but his throat was stiff. His mouth opened once, but nothing manifested.

"Come back home, Haruhito," Toshiya bid him, lifting a sheet and then writing into it. "I'm sure everyone back home would love to chew you out after what's happened." The older man chortled under his teeth, as the younger rolled eyes. Then, a smirk beamed on his face.

"Hey, at least little Mari-chan loves me to no matter what," he retorted, lips pursed at him.

Toshiya pouted, frowning right at his younger brother. Haruhito pointed at him, feeling some happiness in this banter.

"Just book the first flight back home, you twit," Toshiya grunted, dropping the call.

Toshiya tossed his phone on the desk with a very audible sigh. His wife erupted from the kitchen, wiping a glass, asking, "How is he, dear?"

Toshiya pulled his bangs away, stating, "Not too badly broken up, he lost to some silver-haired boy."

Hiroko shook her head, "Regardless, it's nice that he puts himself out there," She pointed one finger at the television. "he's showcasing what he has learned and it's something he could put on his university resume."

Toshiya blew his lips. "Though what will keep him from falling off a yacht?" he then looked out through the window, "Though I think I've found a fine specimen for the company's experiment…" Toshiya trailed, thinking about the young, victorious, man.

x0x

 _Ugh,_ Viktor thought, his very mind and atmosphere a big blur, _what happened?_ The young man groaned, his hand rubbing his head. Wait a minute—Viktor stared at his head. This was odd. If he was unconscious and then woke up, he should've been restrained at this point. How long had he had been gone? All he remembered was someone in a crisp black shirt and white pants tackle him, escort him into a car and gave him some water, causing him to fall into a slumber. Viktor looked at his legs and noticed that he was on a hammock on a large, balcony that was right by the beach.

Funny, why would they throw him in here? If he really was a danger, why not throw him into a cell with ties on his arms? He was pretty sure that they would do the same with Black Aria. With no time to ponder, he peered below, hoping that there was pole or something he could use a weapon; unfortunately, that was only an empty table with a mat right by him.

"Oh, you're awake," beamed a voice on Viktor's left. Viktor averted his head and Mrs. Fowler and David right at the door. Viktor's blood began to boil, narrowing his eyes at them. He gritted his teeth at them like an agitated rottweiler, but David frowned and pouted, stepping up to him, "Hey, hey, there's no need for the hostility, you should be glad you're not in the basement right now."

"My son is right," Mrs. Fowler told her hand on his shoulder. "In fact, this was my son's idea—my husband and we figured that it was wrong to take you against your will; and that if you were interested in vacation and not a partner, you wanted that and nothing else."

Oh, thank Jesus Christ, Viktor figured. He then raised a brow up, crossing his arms as he asked, "Then do you know anything about the Blades of Silver Tournament? Where people would fight in matches? Who won after my match?" Viktor hoped maybe Pedro. His father was clearly more of a gunman than a hand-to-hand type of person.

"I looked up the results today and that man Nikhil Nikiforov defeated that large Mexican guy," David reported.

Viktor cupped his forehead, groaning. This had to be some sort of joke—a stupid, harmless prank-like joke. How much damage did father enlist on poor Pedro? Damn, Viktor was sure Pedro had family and friends somewhere too.

"Apparently, you're his son, aren't you… Viktor?" David asked him.

Said young man nodded, "Yeah," curling up and rubbing his arms. "And by the way, how long was I gone?" He was afraid that the hotel charged him extra by now. He needed the money in order to get back home.

"Oh, don't worry, you were gone for the whole night; it's noon right now." Mrs. Fowler smiled. "Is your mom really a beta?" she asked. Never in her days had she ever heard of an alpha father-beta mother couple. In her family, it was strictly, only Alpha-Omega. Hardly any betas were produced at all.

"Yes, you could say so," Viktor told her. Though, when was the last time he ever saw her? In fact, why did she even go and marry his father? Why would she isolate herself from everyone else?

"Oh, well, to make up for what happened, we booked a flight for you to Barcelona, along with some extra cash for whatever you may like." Mrs. Fowler told him.

"I wish to continue on in the Tournament," Viktor lifted a hand to her. "it's what I should be doing. That man is my father and he's my business." As much as he would not admit it, he couldn't stand the sight of him hurting anyone innocent.

Mrs. Fowler looked disheartened, but nonetheless, she told him, "Alright, Viktor, though at least allow us to drive you back."

x0x

Viktor took a deep breath, walking into the hotel, holding his arms out. He had bid the Fowlers goodbye, stepping out their vehicle. David smiled at him one last time, as Mr. Fowler looked at him with a hollow stare. Not only that, he appeared as if he had been crying, as before they drove off, David touched his shoulder. Hm, maybe now, David would be able to find a suitor on his own, other than his father trying to play cupid instead. Maybe not all omegas were dumb; the one Viktor met had a brain and they knew how to use it. Viktor walked up to his hotel room, cleaned his body up, and put on a new outfit. A maroon tank top, a pair of black-jersey shorts, and the same boots as last night. The next match would be in a few hours, so Viktor cruised down the hotel to the bar they had.

Right when Viktor sat at the counter, the hairs on his back stood, when something brushed by him. There, taking a seat next to him was Nikhil—his father. He bore the usual: a cool look on his face with a small smile. Some would say he had a friendly face, but oh, they would be far wrong—and terrified—if they knew the truth.

"What do you want, dad?" Viktor breathed vehemently to him.

"Nice to see you too, son." Nikhil greeted in return as if his own son had politely greeted him first. "How did winning your first fight in public feel like?"

"You still haven't answered me, yet." The young man darted his eyes to him. "What in the name of Christ do you want, dad?"

"You. I need you to join me," Nikhil answered him, his tone as smooth as platinum marble.

"For what, that group, Dead Man's Circle?" the young man spat. A group made up of Alpha men and advocated domination of their kind over omegas and betas. In time, they managed to make their 'peace' with omegas, but the same couldn't be said for betas.

"You can't keep this lifestyle forever, Viktor." Nikhil rebutted in a cool tone.

"I can get your orders, sirs?" kindly demanded a man in his mid-thirties with an accent. He was wearing an old, white shirt, a red apron, and black slacks.

"I'll take a green margarita, please," Viktor told the bartender, pulling out a few pesos for the drink.

"I'll take a mojito," Nikhil requested, pulling out the same amount of money as his son. Viktor growled quietly, as the bartender went to work on their drinks. He enjoyed that time away from talking to his father, he hated hearing his stupid voice as there would be no other break from it.

"What are you saying? I'm perfectly fine where I'm at; there's nothing to hold me down!" Viktor plastered his hands on the counter.

"Oh, perfectly fine, Viktor?" Nikhil held the urge to laugh at him. "I've seen where you've been all alone; what would happen if something to you, Viktor, with no one to help you? Hm?" he sassily raised a brow at him. Viktor's more than obvious combat style was one reason he should join. "You need someone you can rely on, such as us." He hissed like a snake, the 's' streaming through his teeth as if he were cold. That was another reason. Viktor's thoughts raced to that damn cop—Officer de la Iglesia. God, who led that guy attend the police academy and graduate? His partner would even retreat to a bar like this to escape just even the very thought of him. The bartender returned with their drinks and went on his merry. Viktor took three sips, slamming the glass down; that was most likely one of the best things he had ever tasted in his emerging adult life.

"I earn a lot of money doing what I do," Viktor stirred his margarita around, staring at it.

"Oh, Viktor, you poor child." Nikhil chuckled, taking one sip of his own drink. "Join us, child, and your income will be overflowing."

"Otherwise, you can be like your mother, isolated from the rest of the world like a tucked away coffin in a mausoleum."

"What the hell…?" Viktor muttered under his teeth. Nikhil his head, just enjoying every second of his own son's confusion. Viktor turned to him, demanding, "Why would you say that about your wife?" Clearly, for one reason, he was a psychopath. A psychopath with a tacky looking gray suit jacket, of course.

"That statement is more than enough so much that you're stapled in now," Nikhil double-lifted his brows. "Though I suppose it really isn't her fault, the poor old thing. Being forced to move back in with her mother, and the latter dying months after didn't aid her psyche all that much either. You obviously know about that, we were all there at your grandmother's funeral, weren't we?"

Viktor was six when they were. He was sitting on the pew, Nikhil and his mother somewhat bickering right by his later grandmother's casket, Vassilissa wiping her face with a tissue. He was staring right at them, until another woman—chipper than his mother—appeared, asking for his hand. That was when he forged his new relationship with his Aunt Katiya. Oh, she was a joy; he would never forget the time they danced to Harry Belafonte's 'Jump in The Line' in her living room.

"Of course; do you still love my mother, though?" Viktor rebutted. "Did you love her even after she tuned out?"

"A man's heart is just as secretive as the sun at night," Nikhil simply commented, tilting his head at him. "You decide, Viktor," Nikhil told him. "As for now, let's just enjoy ourselves before tonight—though not too much." With that, Nikhil took one sip of his drink, walking away and heading straight to the TV that was hanging on the left corner of the room. Viktor stared at the horizon, fingers fiddling in the glass.

' _Pedro… I'm sorry I hadn't seen you fight, but—you're free now, and get to spend time with your family again.'_ Viktor smiled, closing his eyes.

x0x

 _ **Jesus this is so short! Whatever happens with Leo and Guang-Hong is for you to think.**_

 _ **Be sure to review and check out my other fics.**_

 _ **MA6/QD.**_


	4. Poor Boy

**Yakov-35**

x0x

Their fights later that night went well. Oh, hold on, rather Viktor's only. Viktor had gone against a man from Brazil, besting him by locking his legs around his chest slamming him down to the mat. So odd, being subverted by one's own country's martial arts, while they used kung-fu and Krav Maga techniques. When the man was down and out of commission, Viktor smirked, performing a backflip, spinning once, pointing to his down opponent with one knee up.

Nikhil, however, had the worse luck. The girl in the bikini top, Amelia, bested him by blasting her fist into his gut about three times, and spinning in the air and knocking his him down on his left shoulder. Nikhil punched the mat, as Amelia had her arms up, yipping like a cowboy at a rodeo.

Viktor was standing in the hall that led to the mat, arms were crossed like a 1950s' bad boy. Nikhil was shaking his head at him, sneering at him, "Not having it from you, Viktor," slinging his suit jacket over his shoulder. Damn girl; who let her parents run around and do that? If anything, she was most likely his sister only much younger and not carrying an affinity for the choir.

Viktor only snickered. "Someone had too much to drink," remembering what his father said back when they were at that bar.

"Whatever, Viktor; you're still in the group, so the joke is on you, boy," Nikhil rebutted.

Just as Nikhil snickered, a few figures came forward, just before the two men. There was a clear of a throat, one arm up in the air. "Excuse me, you two gentlemen?"

Viktor turned his head, wondering who the heck as calling them and why.

There was a man, about Nikhil's age. His hair was black and parted down in the middle, with a large pair of glasses sitting on his face. Viktor blinked once, almost frowning as he took note of the long, white coat on the man's person. It looked like Haruhito's coat… wait, were these two guys related…?

"My name is Dr. Katsuki Toshiya," the man spun to them, smiling so sweetly at them. "and I am the lead scientist to Eros Corporation, where my group and I are trying to conduct a very important experiment,"

"Is it to remove that damn smile on your face?" Viktor snarked at him, eyeing it. "Because mediocre-factory is down the street."

Dr. Katsuki narrowed his eyes, though he continued, "Which includes placing a living test subject into cryogenic-slumber for a certain amount of time; my group and I have chosen you, young man. Why does this experiment stand?" he chuckled to himself as a madman telling a spy his plot, "To help humanity survive and thrive in dangerous temperatures. Hot, cold, you name it; we want to help others last longer within them."

"That's a very intriguing, heroic experiment, doctor," Nikhil purred, just edging closer to him.

"What can I say? I am very much the Freddie Mercury of all biological experiments at this point," the little man giggled.

"Sorry, I'm more of a Journey fan," Nikhil rebutted, arms over his chest as a snarky African American lady.

Viktor was still very unsure of this experiment. He was not buying it for one damn second, no way…

"And what would you do to this subject? I mean, there's must be something else other than just making them into human popsicles," Viktor demanded.

Dr. Katsuki poked his pointer finger to his lip. "Oh, well, why not come with us, and find out?"

Nikhil frowned at him, not liking how he's acting like a ditzy flower-tossing girl. "You won't be taking my child; he is coming home with me, and you have no say in it,"

Viktor was perplexed, perturbed with his father's actions. "What the hell?!" his fists swung down. "I can make my own decisions, dad."

"Oh, I feared someone would try to get in the way," Dr. Katsuki admitted, his hands forming a pyramid under his chin. "So I figured, why not you join in on the experiment, sir? You'd be in the same position as your child; everyone knows how much a father strives to connect with his son or daughter." He unclasped his hands placed them behind his back.

"I've got a business to cooperate with at home," Nikhil rebutted at him, bad attitude's water washing over his face. The rest of the Circle would 'wonder' what happened to him, as Alpha Feltsman would be the most 'worried' out of them all.

"Oh, a stubborn louse, aren't we?" Dr. Katsuki tossed at him. With no other choice, Dr. Katsuki gave orders to the men that were at his disposal in an odd tongue, causing (oddly) Nikhil and Viktor to gaze right at each other. Each of Dr. Katsuki's goons removed long, silver rods from their backs and fired something odd items from them.

One landed on Viktor's chest, the boy clasping his hand over it. It was round, and black, with several diamond-like shapes on them. Viktor tried to take it off, it had stuck to his shirt and then gripped onto his skin. He griped, feeling it sting as an ant bit him.

"Ahhh! What the hell are these things?" Nikhil griped, trying to remove the one that landed on his shoulder.

Dr. Katsuki only flapped his hand down, "Oh, something that our juniors created; to help its chosen host, _rela-a-a-ax._ " and then tilting his head left to right at them.

It was at that time, Viktor felt the ball's effects skin right into his skin. His arm felt as loose as gelatin, then, flowing down to his legs as waves, making them just as. They wobbled, as Nikhil was holding onto his shoulder, hunching down as if he had gotten into a fight. His brown eyes were spitting right at the scientist's own, hissing and pointing at him, "Sick little man, haven't you ever heard of the Belmont Report? You're obviously violating research ethics!" he reached into his coat, going for his gun, but another black-ball was thrown, latching onto his wrist.

"Hey, I told you two what the experiment was and tried to have your consent," Dr. Katsuki had his arms folded before him. There was 'plop' before them, Viktor had fallen into a dream. Nikhil jolted, turning around to find his son on the floor with his limbs splayed up and about. At a point, he had fallen into his knees as well, still looking at him. No, no else could do that to him, he figured. Dr. Katsuki then snapped his fingers, ordering the men to take the boy into their custody. While they did, Nikhil snapped his face back to him, snarling like a mad dog.

Dr. Katsuki explained, calmly walking to Nikhil. "I know I'm menacing right now, but I have to be assertive somehow; in the name of science and evolution." He took his chin. "I'm surprised men like you have at least taken psychology,"

Nikhil's chest had gone heavy, the man falling onto the floor. Dr. Katsuki inched away, his hand in his pockets.

"The only downfall to this experiment, you may ask? Well… you'll be nude while!" Dr. Katsuki sing-sang, nose to the ceiling. At that point as well, Nikhil's head began to grow heavy too. It was so odd, he hadn't felt this way since that very night—that very night with his wife—

Vassilissa.

"What the fuck?" was the last thing that Nikhil breathed, lids growing heavy and closing shut.

x0x

Ever since Nikhil had closed his eyes and his body shut down for the night, Dr. Katsuki never took that look of victory off his face. He and his personal lackeys ordered for some medics come and take their new test subjects for the journey back home. When Dr. Katsuki and his lackeys got into the plane, he spun around and around, him singing a famous verse from Queen's 'We are the Champions'. His men gazed right each other, just slightly disturbed in what they were they were seeing. Nonetheless, they shook it off, knowing that they were going back home to Japan.

It was halfway through the ride that one of Dr. Katsuki's colleagues notified him of who these men really were.

"What was that?" Dr. Katsuki suddenly piped, just dazed by what Dr. Yamato told him. He was in his late twenties, with mousy brown hair and a pair of blue eyes behind his silver glasses.

"Of course, Dr. Katsuki-sama, you've managed to capture Black Aria, one of the most notorious vigilantes in all of North America. And… one of the members of a cult known as 'Dead Man's Circle', very mysterious and dangerous as well." Dr. Yamato told him, peering at his tablet.

Dr. Katsuki's eyes fell to the floor. He frowned, but then rubbed his chin.

"Well then, Dr. Yamato-san," gazing at him. "It appears that we're vigilantes ourselves."

x0x

Two more came and went, like an eagle swooping down from the sky to catch its prey. There was a large monitor on the wall, as a figure was bunched over it. Alpha Feltsman's teeth gritted, his knuckles colliding with the surface loud as a door-knock. There were other men by his side, wearing a suit of different tones, shades, and hues of gray and black, holding their hands behind their backs. "What is happening?" Alpha Feltsman griped, tearing himself away from the monitor. "He has still not appeared! My god, how long does it take to collect one boy?" Everyone in the entire Circle knew he was Black Aria; even with his skills, the kid himself had to have some sort of limit.

It was like when they had a hit on a sly omega that sold faulty bullets to criminals. It took Alpha Nikiforov six days to hunt him down and beat the heat out of him.

A man with military-style, red hair came over to Yakov, eager to ease his troubled mind. "There's a way we can find our dear Alpha Nikiforov, Alpha Feltsman."

"What, Alpha Babichev?!" he spat at him. "How come you baboons never told me, earlier!? I would've been at ease at that time!" he chewed at his fellow alphas.

"You were too far into your troubled-daze. We wanted to let yourself relax, otherwise… well, I'll let you decide on that," Alpha Babichev smiled, humming to himself.

"Allow me," Alpha Babichev had his fellow alpha step away, typing into the keyboard. Something bluish-white appeared over his face and suit, as his eyes light up. He beckoned his fellow Alphas to come over, as he found some very vital information.

"Japan?" Alpha Feltsman questioned with a brow up. "What in the name of almighty would he be doing in Japan?"

"Good question," Alpha Babichev had a finger up, going in deep into where Alpha Nikiforov and son may be. And there. He found out where they were. The building was a large as a meat-packing factory, painted black. A red stripe streamed horizontally across the front, with a crystal-like shape on the right.

"Ugh, those dreaded colors!" one alpha with a pitch-black ducktail hairstyle gawked, turning himself from it.

"Don't empty your inventory just yet, Alpha Popovich," Alpha Feltsman piped at him. He looked and took note of what the building was called.

"You know what Eros Corporation is?" Alpha Feltsman asked Alpha Babichev.

"Yes." He confirmed. "I read and despite its menacing colors, they mean to change the world for the better." He opened a new page and showed them everything they had to know about it.

"Founded in 1992, an organization run by," Alpha Babichev began, and then—

"Betas…" hissed in unison with his fellow alphas. Alpha Komorov, a man with swept-back brown hair shook his head, mentally chastising his fellow alpha that was taken by them. So strange. What was the world coming to?

"Scoundrels in both in fashion and in this world," grunted Alpha Popovich, hand fisted.

Alpha Babichev faced his fellow comrades, a plan sitting in his mind. "Everyone, pack your items, we must travel to Eros Corporation, now." If those betas can capture one of their men, then who knows, one of them may be next.

x0x

Leo had gone back to work on the fourth day of his partner's heat. He knew he couldn't leave Guang-Hong behind, but the younger officer asked him to. He had everything he needed thanks to him. When—now as Officer de la Iglesia—checked in, the chief stormed right up to him, shaking his head like a disapproving parent.

"The hell, Officer de la Iglesia?" the chief, Officer Stevens thrashed his newspaper at him. Officer de la Iglesia appeared startled, looking right at the chief. "What happened to you? I tried calling for the past few days,"

"Officer Ji just went into heat." He answered his boss. And he would never forget how the poor boy beside him looked. Instead of appearing as a responsible and ready-to-work public servant, he appeared like a man with a disease. Sweat radiated in every part of his face and chest as he was curled up, sealing himself away from the world.

"You were what?" Officer Stevens stammered.

"I had to, chief. It is my obligation as his partner to help him in his time of need." Officer de la Iglesia patted his chest.

Officer Stevens shook his head, wanting his best officer to please understand, "Look, never mind that," he edged the officer closer to him, "there's been an attack in one of the clubs last night, three people were killed and another five were wounded."

"And has any footage been found?" Officer de la Iglesia asked.

"That was why I was calling you, man." His boss spoke. "We feared that something we'd never thought we'd live to see was at play here," he edged even closer to the officer's ear. "Betacide."

x0x

 **Thank you for reading. Please, please comment/review. Bye.**


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